Everyone has past I suppose it’s nothing to feel ashamed of after all it makes you who you are. Just some have better, more interesting stories to tell than others. I just don’t like revealing mine all at once, I think it’s a lot of handle. Most people once I tell them are left speechless, because they have no idea what words they can say. I can’t lie, it’s hard to relate when you have such a complexed life and colorfully painted background such as mine. I feel like people want in but once I let them in they look for any way out. Maybe I am  not strong enough to trust people, why should I trust them? Even if they have given me no reason to doubt them. I guess I am just always so used to people letting me down, I feel like if i expected it all along it doesn’t hurt as much when they finally do. I don’t know, maybe I’m just dumb.  Maybe the reason I am so unhappy is because I refuse to let my guard down and let  people in. I always feel like I have to protect myself, if I don’t protect myself, who is going to do it for me? No one I guess.

I wouldn’t say I am miserable, I’m just at a  nice, lonely medium stand still.  I’m not sure that I am ready to fix things with everyone, but right now I am going to be selfish for once. Quit putting everyone before me and focus on myself for awhile, that’s the only way I will ever figure out what I truly want in life. When I figure that out I’ll return and I hope that the people I left on my journey will forgive me and take me back, but I know I am in no position to ask that.  I just hope through understanding everything works out. Things are starting to look up already, I am starting to figure out college, although I am sacrificing a quaint and easy college life to attend two colleges at once in order to chase childhood dreams.

If you think life is hard  now, baby just close your eyes. It only gets harder..

I think I’ll be okay though I’m a tough kid, I am having all my college paid for a full ride scholarship I just have to keep my grades up. I don’t think that will be a problem as long as I do my work. It is my  plan and hope that I can attain a 4.00. I know that sometimes my head is more in my dreams, and unrealistically in the clouds. I think I have to be a bit eccentric in order to achieve success, you have to dream big, and keep on dreaming. It’s good motivation even if I don’t end up where I dreamed, or envisioned myself being I am where I am because I dreamed I could do it. I think no matter what my mom says about me not being realistic, people like me can’t help but dream. I always want everything great and grand. I’m not saying I have expensive snob, snob taste by any means. I’m just saying I allow my imagination to take me to the farthest reaches of the sky. Regardless,  of what a party pooper my mother can be. Screw her this is my life. I will live it as I see fit. Just because I do not agree with my mother does not mean that the way I think is wrong. It’s just different. Mother you can’t control me I am my own person. I am just waiting for the day you will realize this. I am not a caged bird, I am a free as the sea, water can carve and penetrate through anything, and that’s exactly what I will do. Nothing can keep me down for too long. Maybe my friend was right, maybe I do get heartbroken by people easily, but it’s NEVER just anyone.  I’m really sensitive when it comes to some people, while others I couldn’t really give too shits.  I hate that about myself. She said she misses the days when I was happier and the truth is I do too. So I am going to keep on pushing through, and trying, even if I kills me. I refuse to throw in the towel until I have absolutely nothing left. Gotta keep fighting, fighting. After all I still have much to live for and who is to tell me what I deserve? Just living my life, for myself and no one else that’s the best I can do. So I am sorry if I sometimes opt to make decisions selfishly in my own best interest.  I still love and care about many, but sometimes I need to come before anyone else I hope people will understand that.

My friend said, Waffles hurts and I’m wondering what I should do. She said she is doing better because the doctor has put her on medication, little white pills they work wonders. While I am still trying to come to grips with the same problem, the pills. The first week on them I couldn’t sleep for a week, then all I could do was sleep. Go to bed at 5PM and not wake up till 3PM the next day. How healthy is that? I need to get off the pills. I know that it is necessary, it’s the only way for me to go on and try to be happy in the hard times ahead. Right now I can barely keep my head up, the front of my head hurts, a burning pulsating ache. The muscles in my back are spazzing out, for lack of medication..but the drugs, these pills..they are driving me crazy. I fall asleep everywhere, and anywhere despite going to bed at 7PM on some nights. Why is my body betraying me in this way? Why..why..why… I can not seem to find the correct words to properly express my emotions at the minute. Just one thought after another drilling into my head.

I walked down the hallway today, I was tittering from side, to side. I felt faint, like I was going to black out. Lately everything is crumbling at my feet, and I have no idea where I should start in terms of picking it up. Rebuild it, make it stronger, make it better I say to myself. I am afraid that everything is too far gone. What have I accomplished in my life thus far?! Huh?! I’m soo useless, every time I try to voice my desires, my wants. I am immediately shot down, and informed what scum I am. I cannot go on living as I am, I fear if I do it will eventually drive me insane. In short if I continue to go on living like this, I am afraid I am going to end up killing myself. Is that what I want? Maybe, but most likely no. Although I am unsure of a lot of things right now I am certain that I would like to have my life back. I want to be able to be myself, I want to be able to make my own mistakes. I am sick of my mother always telling me what to do. I am sick of those who always silence my voice. I want my life back, and this life it no longer belongs to me. It’s time to start anew. Away from all that oppresses me is where I will be. Once I find happiness, then maybe I can be free.

I feel that I am a bad person, for some reason. I wonder if my silly words ever make a bit of difference. I wonder, if with my silly words I alone can have the power to move, motivate and activate change. I often wonder if my existance is even important. I wonder if I should really continue going on thinking that I am in fact a bad person.

I know that kidneys can’t load guns, and can’t stage wars. However, if I can make someone who is suffering laugh at their pain, maybe they will see that unlike what it seems life isn’t really that bad after all. Even if I have to make a fool out of myself. The laughs, the smiles, and the memories will never fade, no what what happens. Maybe I still believe in childish things, but it’s the childish things that keep me going. It reminds me that even when life gets diffcult, we must learn to play it out in a most touching melody. I hope I continue to never lose  sight of what is really important in life, no matter how hard things may get for me.

I miss the simplicity of my childhood. I miss the caring mother, I thought I once had. I miss my friends, while others without a second regret I wish I could forget. I wish I could be happy, or at least find a road that leads there. I miss the two-faced demons that lied under my bed. I miss the naive, sweet, sweet innocence I once clung to. I miss sneaking out my window at night and walking around in the darkness just to clear my head.. I want to just be myself…but it’s hard..I want to breath for myself..but when others stand in your way there’s not much you can do..call me selfish but I just want a chance to express who I really am. I miss laughing with you, my old self. I miss the feeling of being missed, when all I am these days is easily dismissed. I’ll miss the times when I was reckless, I’ll miss the way I used to laugh. I miss the times I had when I loved myself…but this I am afraid is all in the past. No more sweet kisses on cheeks, no more laughing untill our heads spin off..no more anything..you enter loneliness, and this is where I will wait for you. The old me come back, I wanted to say..but the old me is resting somewhere deep beneath my skin in this restless glass heart, has the mind to love you, but not the strength to keep from falling apart…this I want to share, this heart of mine. With someone who I know can stay by my side.. the old me haaa dead and gone. Goodbye to the darkness, and say hello to the dawn.  Time for this two pieces of a whole to amend one broken soul come back to me, I want to be whole. Newly born I will be, let me be born, let me be free..free from the me I’m deathly afraid I used to be.

What can I say, it’s time to make a change. My mother and I just can’t get along, the person I hate the most is hands down myself I do not want to go back to how I used to be..but I would like to make peace with myself on levels I am still at war with. I’m afraid I don’t know who changed be it my mother of me..but it’s no ones fault.

I stay awake at night, stressed out of my brains..nothing seems to make sense anymore..and when this happens, you know the war..I start to push the people away that couldn’t love me anymore…I can’t cope with the part of myself I hate… I’ve tried but I am starting to lose my faith…slowly I’ll wither and fall apart.

Goodbye, self-desturtive, choatic, beautiful soul..It was fun.

What I would like for Christmas.
I don’t even know but let me ramble off a few things.
I like:
 clothes
money
books
make-up
plushies (like the Gloomy bear below.)

Buy me this for Chirstmas it's a Gloomy Bear

shoes
artwork (art that you made yourself is cool and prefered, but if you buy it that’s cool too)
photopaper
video games
manga
nerdy shit
volks dolls
water color paint.
Acrylic paint
paint brushes
a sketch book
books
copic markers
water color paper
canvases- size 11×14
I also enjoy random knick knacks, and crap I don’t need.
Canon Rebel XSi  
Gift cards
make me food.
Make me a card-Put money in it..Just kidding.
A trip to Japan.
I also like penguin stuff.
candy, Japanese candy
Panda shizzle
Chopsticks (not the wooden crappy ones like real one you cause use load of times)
Hair straightener
 

After his mother went his father, his father talked of naturally how much he loved his son. He spoke of his wicked sense of humor, as did his mother.  Everyone else who spoke of him mentioned his humor as well. His father also mentioned how his son helped him to open his eyes to the possibilities, and how to be more accepting of the people around him. Lastly he thanked his son Keith for helping him become a better father, and for being a great son. I could not see, but I could hear the pain  etched in all of the voices, of the people who spoke of him. As tears spilled from the eyes of the people inside, whose expressions, part of me wish I could have seen. Tears snuck out of  my my own, but only little ones.  Ones that I could wipe away and no one would know that I had been crying.

I wrote to Keith as if he was still here. On a poster board his parents had laid out with a giant picture of his face and blonde mop on it. As I saw his face I remembered how we use to play with his hair, how soft it felt. I picked up the black marker and I began to write. I wrote to him I said something to the effect of Hey Keith, thanks for being such a great friend. You were always there to cheer people up when they were feeling down. I thanked him for helping me pass French class and told him that he was part of the reason I had always looked forward to that class. I finished with Love Always and singed my name. I wish I had written more. I knew that I wanted to but I figured my makeshift paragraph would do, considering  the fact that I didn’t want to take up a lot of room.

People said words, his best friend played a song that he had written on the piano. In his speech his best friend said that at 3:50 AM the day of his death.  Keith texted him saying that he loved him like a brother to which he replied the same. He went onto say that Keith seemed happy on  the Thursday, he had seen him. He was unsuspecting of  these unfortunate circumstances to arise. How he looked forward to seeing him again. How he would never forget his smile on that day, or the hug that they exchanged. A few more people said a few words about Keith and then followed by a video, which I couldn’t see followed by audio and pictures of Keith’s life. I remember the first song was the Circle of Life. Followed by some songs I had heard before but did not recall the names of.

After that the funeral had come to an end, and I was managing to keep a straight face. People came flooding out, I saw my creative writing teacher Ms. Schmidt. I saw my French teacher, something told me she would be there.  I saw a few more students and a few more teachers. Then I saw Jeff who said “Hey Courtney.”  and put a firm hand on my shoulder before walking out. I knew then it was getting harder to keep my emotions bottled up. Then I saw Morrisa, who is in my creative writing class, she reached her hand out to meet mine and I took it. Her hand was warm, and smaller then my own. She gave my hand a slight squeeze before she let go  to proceed out of the doors. I knew I was breaking. When the  flow of people coming out had stopped, I moved up to go into the room. I just lost it as I entered the room, I started crying not that little stuff I was doing earlier in the hall either, like sobbing. My body shook with grief as I looked down at the funeral table, with pictures of Keith splayed across the lien white table cloth. I clenched the yellow rose in my hand, along with the little paper card I had received.  I grabbed a picture of Keith and read the back It read: “Keith A. Geisler 2/25/1994-10/16/09.”  Now I fear I will never forget those dates. They will forever be ingrained into my freakishly good memory.

As I move on down the isle to the front of the room, I drop my gaze to the floor, observing that there are sets of tissue boxes laid by each of the pews on either side, and close the the middle. I wonder how many people had used them. I go to the front  of the room and see in the center, a nice arrangements of flowers and pictures of Keith. Past the crying people I make my way to the outside front door. Sitting on the patio, I take in some fresh air. I dig my phone out from the side of my bra and turn it on. I must have breathed in at least five more times before answering the sloo of text messages. I answered one with “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry and look what happened.” But crying for Keith isn’t a bad thing, I think it’s a good thing. I stare down at his face some more. And reflect of the words of his father, his mother, his older brother, and all his family and friends. Those ones that urged us not to choose the same path Keith took, the ones of his father that said his son was his best friend, and that his son taught him the true meaning of what it is to love. All these things ran through my mind at once.

People smile at me as I go back into the room realizing that I need to exit through the other doors, seeing as that’s where my mother is going to pick me up at. Random people smile at me, I smile back as I walk back down the isle. A woman with short cut dark brown hair and bangs, who must have been his mother was sitting in  pew adjacent to where I was. She thanked me for coming and asked me if I went to school with Keith all I could say was “Mhmm..” she rubbed my back and I kept walking. But part of me wish I hadn’t. But I bet she saw how much Keith was loved, through my eyes.  Judging by her kind words about her son, and the little gestures she did. I could tell that she really was a loving person. I felt glad knowing that Keith had such great parents along with his brothers, and more friends that cared about him then one single guy could ever ask for.

As I wobble my way out to the room in high heels. I find my way outside and greet the fresh air.  Once more I sit there in reflection, on yet another patio. A few minutes later I see my mother’s Cadillac Escalade pull into the drive. I walk  across the drive asphalt. To meet the car. She gazes down at my new possessions and comments on how handsome my friend was. Sees my rose and says, “That was nice gesture of his parents to give everyone a rose.” I look at the rose and know that one day soon it will die, or rather pass on to  another life just as Keith did. I wonder if I should press it out or let it die. Should I allow the rose to be symbolic to my grief? I have a picture to keep. I think to myself as I am in the car. Keith did not really die on October 16, 2009 he simply move on, so that he could see all the people that loved and cared for him all at once in heaven, or in the next life. Keith isn’t really dead. He is still here and he is watching over all of us. Because that is what he wanted, Keith would not want me or anyone else to be sad because of him. Instead he’d want people to learn something from this. To remember him for the great, smart, funny, fun-loving kid he really was.  I know now more then I did ever before that life is good and no matter how tough things get you should never, ever give up. Keith you taught me that. I love you, and I’ll remember you always.

Courtney

Keith Anthony Geisler Rest in Peace. 

February, 25 2009-October, 16 2009

P.S: You better be happy up there damn it, ‘cause when I see you I’m going to kick your ass, or at least try too.  So you better keep practicing your  tai jitsu!

*Changes her blog headline of Life’s a crap hole to Life’s alright.*
After all it’s only a generalization. Hahaha thanks Keith, because of you I feel I can be a happier person.

Shortly after they had sent out the announcement that all teachers were to check their email, minutes later another announcement came. I was in the bathroom at this point washing my hands, and preparing to walk back to class when I hear the principal say over the loud speaker that he is sadden to announce that one of our students had passed away, followed by his name. At first I was like le gasp I think I know that kid. I wasn’t sure though because I did not know the last named of the kid. But the fact that he had the same first name as the boy they said in the announcements and was in the same grade. I was like well there is probably more then one boy in the tenth grade with that name so I ask around and find some people that were in my French II class last year, that I had with him. After I asked around for awhile they all shake their head and say yea it was him. Immediately I start to get sad, and wonder what drove him to be so, so unhappy that he would want to take his own life.

I mean I knew he had problems, but every kid has those. But I think he’s problems over the few times we talked, were deeply rooted problems that had to do with his family or something of that nature, that forced him to take his own life.  Then I hear rumors about it being a suicide and all these different, crazy things. Kids who did not even know who he was talking all this crap about him. Showing a blatant disrespect for him, and all the people who’s life’s he had touched over the course of attending my school. I think about how sad, pathetic and lowly, the student body at my school really is.  Rumors flying around about his death. Concerning how he died, and if they ruled it a suicide, how he did it, and why he did it. That is just a terrible, terrible thing. Other rumors consisted of his sexual orientation all implying the fact that he was struggling with being gay. How he did it solely BECAUSE he was gay. Upon hearing these things I immediately took offense. Not knowing whether or not the rumors about his supposive orientation were true or not, and not really caring. I just knew deep down somewhere that if he took his own life, there had to be more to it, then just being gay. How people can just walk around acting so sure about a person they did not even know.  That in itself just sickens me to the pit of my stomach, and churns the vial in my mouth.

When you talk about the dead, unless they did something unspeakable like horribly bad. You are suppose to honor them, treat them with respect, and remember them. I find it sad that people often don’t start doing what they should have done long ago; that is until that person is dead. They do not start respecting that person or speaking about them in good conscious until they are dead. Something they should have tried when the person was alive, they wait till their dead to do. I think it goes without saying, that if  we as a human race continue to treat others like this, we are all inevitably, doomed.  My friend said even if you don’t like a person, it is wrong to talk about them in a disrespectful manner once they are gone. Unless, like previously stated, they really did something terrible to deserve it.  If you did not like said person you should simply keep your mouth shut, and your thoughts to yourself and let people grieve.

That would be the humane thing to do. The truth is we all die someday, and when things like this happen it really makes you look at your life and say what have I done?

At the end of school we received a news letter, the kind you take home to your parents when something bad/unexpected happens to avoid the frantic calls of parents, and to inform them of things. This letter obviously regarded this student’s death, and it confirmed the rumor that he had committed suicide, was indeed true.  

What’s the last mean thing I said to a person, that I really meant at the time. Maybe I should make amends maybe I should go apologize. Maybe I should try to be the better person.

Which leads me to another topic. I hate how insensitive people are about things like death, that without saying,  touch very close to the heart. I told my friend about my day. How I was pissed I was about various things, but mostly at the things people were saying. I just wanted to go sucker punch them. To which she replied sucks to be you and I felt that, although she wasn’t there. I had just been bitch slapped through the texts, by my phone screen I mean at first I was like…did she really just say that to me? I replied “Way to be insensitive!” She shot back: “I had a great day!” and I was just like yea…umm..well what you you want me to say it sounds like you are saying. I felt like she was saying: “It sucks to be you right now- I’m having a great life,” I felt that she was rubbing that in my face.

The insensitivity however, did not stop there it continued with my mother, yes my own mother did not even offer to comfort me, or offer the utterances of an apologetic “I am sorry.” let alone give me her condolences. When I dropped the my-friend-just-died-bomb on her. She was more concerned with how, he died, or why he did it, basically gossiping about it.  Verses the fact that he was dead. Regardless of why or how, and people like me, that knew him might have been saddened by this tragedy. She did not ask me if I was saddened by the recent event she did nothing motherly. She just looked at me, like she was hungry for information. The very information I refused to feed her.

When everyone else refused to come to my aid, they either said whatever, like my mother or just kept saying sorry. Not knowing what to say, or unwilling to handle a depressing situation, because they did not want to feel as bad as I felt. Just when I was starting to lose faith in my friends and family. My faithful friend Alice stepped up the the plate, she was the only one who actually sat me down and talked to me about it and after that I felt some sort of relief and I felt happier.  She told me to go out there and be the great person I was and to give people who talked badly about him sit-downs or looks. With this I was determined to do the right thing in his honor. 

_______________________________________  

One of other friends’ said to me that this boy’s death is what pushed her to finally start healing old wounds, and making up with people she has wronged. She said she was going to apologize to these two individuals, I said don’t let his death be the thing that makes you want to apologize. It just makes it seem like you are only doing it because you feel bad. I’m not saying don’t do it, but wait until you truly feel from the bottom of your heart, remorse for what you did. Until then don’t let the guilt, triggered by his death, be your reasoning for apologizing. 

She said to me “Courtney I had been meaning to apologize for a long time coming now, I just never had the balls, his death is what finally pushed me to make amends with these people that I am at odds with.”

As long as you really mean it with your heart, then fine go do the right thing, you’ve done them a lot of wrong I said. She said she knew but not like they were innocent either.  To which I stated I knew, but two wrongs don’t make a right, and I felt like adding but you can surely turn left. She said she would apologized and inquired me about them not listening. I said even if they chose not to listen, there is nothing you can do. You tried your best, and that’s all you can do, so you have nothing to feel guilty about.

Now do not get me wrong. I did not know this kid on any levels on intimacy, we were not close friends. But friends none the less. I thought about how just last year in French class he was signing my year book. In my pink sharpie. He wrote in my year book about how this is probably the last time he will ever write in pink sharpie, while chuckling to himself. Even though we were not like close friends and did not know each other on a personal level very well.  I remember he was always nice to me, and everyone else I had seen him interact with in the class. A friend. Someone who let me copy off of his French worksheets if I asked. Helped me out when I didn’t understand things. He was nice kid, and although he was not a jock or an athlete. Not being popular by the school’s definition of in-crowd. He knew and touched a lot of people, because he was nice, and this made him well liked. You did not die in vain, my friend for you affected people on this day and you are affecting them right now. It is because of you that I have seen my friend want to change, made people think about things in a different light. I will remember you, every year in October and although the date of your death, of the 16th may escape my memory, I’ll always remember you for your kindness. Even when you were struggling you always came to class in a good temperament, and tried to make others happy. I hope you are finally happy, and in a better place now.

Love always,

Courtney

When things like this happen, as this has not been the first experience I have had with death. It acts as a reminder to live without regret and to most importantly to treat others with respect. Be nice to people who aren’t nice to  you there the ones that need in the most. And tell the people that you care about, and love that you love them every day, or show them because you never know when they’ll be gone. After all death is coming for us all someday, we just don’t know when.

R.I.P Keith

I know that once I find whatever I want to do in life. I will put my best efforts into it but in order to achieve I have to want it. If  I do not want it then I see no point in putting myself through all that hard work to achieve said goals that is just a waste of my time. I need to stop being frantic and go out and at least apply for scholarships and maybe college while I am at it.

___________________________________________________________________

Man, you know you cannot sleep, when all you do is pace around your room like a maniac. When all your thoughts are going crazy all at once. You go outside to take a breather and  nothing is helping relieve the pain and stress you feel…

Oh how I wish I could just run away. Something that takes my pain away not a vice, not a drug, not a drink. Not something that temporarily mask the pain while causing a vast amount of psychical damage.  I want to be happy, to say I am happy and mean it. To not only be happy for awhile, but to be content and happy that is what I would like. If only I could find said happiness easier then I find pain. She said to me this friend I have that I want you to know what it feels like to be loved unconditionally. I ask nothing of you but to let me love you. To love without reason, no matter what I do I told her I didn’t deserve her and she said oh yes you do. Every ounce of my love you deserve it all. So all of it I give to you. Why give yourself to me? I will only hurt you don’t you see.  I’m not in this for love but because I care about you. I want you to be happy and for that I’d give anything.

I thought in that instant I have such a good friend one that no matter what I say or do she’ll love me till the end. Then my heart sank in my chest. How can I do this to you in good conscious? She never let me push her away. Although many times I have tried, she’s never given up on me. Even though she could see my blatant pride. And from her I have many things I hide but at the same time I wonder why. When I know that it’s only my pride that speaks once more for me and not my heart that bruised, beaten and battered you see. 

She said she didn’t care and she wanted me to see what it is like to be love unconditionally.

—————————————————

I cannot find salvation in anything I do. Every time I take certain steps I am reminded of you…

When you have a friend that is struggling you want to do your best to help pick them up and help them stubble back onto their feet but they are to far away they come and they go. When they are gone you feel empty you don’t know where they are you wish you could reach them but don’t know how you are cowardice but still want to reach them some how.

………………………………………………………………

So she leaves and I have no idea when she is coming back. When is the next time I will see her? I ask myself from time to time. I do not know I really don’t she comes and she goes appearing at random and feeling all those feeling of sheer utter desperation as I have waited for months to see her again.  I want to yell, I want to scream, but the words only form right in my dreams. I simply make small talk and chat, not of my pain or suffering. Every time she comes back I try to make use of every small moment we spend together.  Because I know if she could she would be there with me more but she has got things she has to do and the more she opens up to me the more I know that I cannot hold her back, because she has to do this.

To eat, to survive, to live. She has to go to work..Now that she’s not in school. She tells me I am more lucky then I know and her, well she’s just a fool. But in her words not my own. Then I state back to her that she’s stronger and smarter then she gives herself credit for. Even if she dropped out of school, I know she is no fool. If she dropped out of school then I know things with her mother must have gotten worse. Her family abandon her,  forcing her to live on her own. Although she has dropped out I am trying to make her see, that she has craved a path all her own. That just because she quit school for reasons she could not control, does not make her a failure not at all. I believe one day she will go back to school get an education, and become very successful. I told her she has to believe in what she is doing, and everything will work out for the better. Do I give good advice? If so then maybe I should take a little of my own advice. But giving advice is sooo much more easier then receiving  it. Especially if you are giving advice to yourself. I feel like I know like I have heard it a thousand times.

I want her to come back and because of that I cannot lie. It’s a selfish little desire I have fathomed all my own. I wish it would come true, but I tell this wish to now go find a new home, because this wish cannot live here for it cannot be granted  given the time. She is doing what she must and she’s not abandoning me no way, no how. Just be patient and wait. Patience is a virtue is it not if I do that then eventually I will get the reward I sought. 

A lot has been going on in my life huh..no more hiding it away I am going to write it down…it’s helping me heal I know this somehow. But if I keep it pint up, it will never go away.  I’ll spend many more nights up in a writing daze, it is 2:44 in the morning and to this I must say goodnight and good day. This writing bug has yet to go away expect more posts soon, I have loads more to say I just need to go to bed before my brain refuses to function. So let me sleep away another day.